


Playing Nice

by orphan_account



Series: The Left Side of the Bell Curve [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe | - In Storybrooke, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, Weddings, sociopath!Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:59:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Gold is asked to stand in his father's wedding. </p><p> </p><p>  <b><i>Blowing Smoke</i> verse </b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Nice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mintleaftea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintleaftea/gifts).



> From a prompt on Tumblr, I bring you a short little oneshot in my sociopath!Peter verse. 
> 
> This takes place between _Blowing Smoke_ and _Scraping Metal_. 
> 
> Thanks to mintleaftea for the prompt! 
> 
> There really isn't too much Panlix, but it's still there....so...

Peter had his preferred methods to gain advantage over others. And this wasn’t it.

He preferred to hoard information, to hold it above other’s heads in a frantic game of mental keep-away. But when no one allowed Peter to become privy to this information, and no one quite understood his capabilities well enough to scare them into indulging his curiosity, there was only one option left.

Yes, Peter Gold had to play nice with the townspeople in Storybrooke. He’d been able to accept this temporary fate for a few months, but it was getting tiresome.

And it’d get more tiresome still, it seemed, as he was sucked into a dress shirt, black tie, and inhumanely shined shoes that clinked as he walked. But, of course, Peter had never been one for playing dress-up.

It was Belle who had first suggested it.

Up till that point, it’d been a typical breakfast. Unpleasant silence permeated through the kitchen while Mr. Gold applied jam to his muffin, Peter nibbled along the crusts on his toast, and Belle stirred her Cheerios pensively.

That’s when she dropped the bomb.

“I think Peter should stand in the wedding.”

Understandably, this set both father and son into rather severe coughing fits, choking and spluttering on their breakfasts. As they pounded on their chests, on opposite ends of the kitchen table,  they seemed oddly synchronized.

“I thought it’d be nice,” She continued optimistically  once the coughing died down. “Neal’s standing, isn’t he? It’d be nice to have the whole family up there.”

Peter cocked a brow, finding it curious that his stepmum-to-be was kept so far in the dark when it came to the complications of their family. That would be a rather rude awakening. He had to suppress the smirk behind the idea that, perhaps, Dear Old Dad was withholding information on purpose. Perhaps he thought his fiancee would lose interest if it all came to light. Funny ideas.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Mr. Gold began but was soon cut off by his son.

“I’d like that.”

The response was simultaneous between the two adults in the room. “Really?”

Peter offered a grin that seemed almost sheepish. “Sure. What better way to salvage the family? All of us standing up in front of a church, new beginnings and all that.”

Mr. Gold’s eyes narrowed, wanting to believe it was sincere, but having eighteen years of experience that proved otherwise.

For the next month or so, he acted as though he were walking on broken glass. Waiting for the volcano to erupt, or for dubious intention to come though. Peter, however, was the epitome of manners and cordiality. He might have muttered a few things under his breath, might have been fiddling on his mobile during the rehearsal dinner, but he was still oddly well behaved.

Peter really didn’t care about the wedding one way or another. But he knew there would be a crowd of sympathizers for Belle in the pews and the dining chairs in the reception hall. Some of those sympathizers had a level of importance in Storybrooke, and if Peter could get some of them to shift those feelings to him, he’d have advantages, the ability to do whatever he wanted.

And in a small town, family values mattered. It would look nice and change the perception others held of him, make his diagnosis weigh less, and all it would take was an hour standing in front of a musty old church, a few hours making nice in a dark reception hall, and a refresher over common etiquette in a tuxedo.

 

Although Peter was making himself behave, even his immeasurable resolve couldn’t make him wear the shoes that came with his suit. The black tuxedo didn’t breathe well as it was, he didn’t need his feet to feel as though they were locked in a box. He opted for his own shoes, and no one questioned him, much to his delight.

Neal stood just off Peter’s left side, looking slightly puffy in the stomach, standing with set shoulders and his feet shoulder width apart, a grin that evoked the thought that -- for once -- the family was together.

On the other end of the altar, decked out in baby blue bridesmaid dresses stood Ariel - redheaded and chipper as ever - and Ruby - who somehow made the dress look a bit more low-cut than intended - holding little rose bouquets in front of their hips, smiling and girlishly happy over the whole endeavor.

Mr. Gold himself, for all his bravado, looked absolutely ridiculous with that happy grin on his face. Glad to be standing there however nervous he got. Third time’s the charm, eh? His cuff links shimmered as though enchanted, but his coattails were skewed and off center. A polished cane broke the sunlight as it shone through the window, catching some light and emitting a long, thin, almost serpentine shadow.

Across from him, Belle stood, a silky white ballgown with golden trim. (Peter thought it was a bit of a bad pun, but knew better than to bring it up when relationships were so delicate.) Her eyes were bright and shone happily when she handed off her larger bouquet to Ruby in favor of holding hands with the man across from her.

Peter shifted from one foot to another, looking out absently over the crowd seated in pews gussied up in their best small-town finery.

Moe French looked seasick from his place up in the front pew, arms folded over his chest. Peter had to hold back his snicker at the situation, somewhat befuddled that sentiment could be strong enough to even bring him to the church at all.

The whole town seemed stuck in that sanctuary with high domed ceilings. Peter wondered, for a moment, who wasn’t there. Odd how an entire town could all pile together in the same room, especially when so few of them actually cared a lick for the groom.

Damn, Peter thought, still skimming the rows and rows of witnesses, whilst assessing how much everyone must love Belle -- or how bored they actually were with daily routine.

He could vaguely make out Felix in the back of the sanctuary, sitting alone and fiddling with the buttons on his cuffs, entirely unused to wearing suits or any such regalia. (Peter made a mental note to tease him about it later on, when he’d take it off later that night.)

“You may now kiss the bride.” The vicar at the front of the church made his proclamation, and there was applause to indicate the deed was done.

And thus started the procession down the aisle, Ariel on Peter’s arm, Ruby on Neal’s, and the newly wedded couple before them.

And, similarly thus, Peter was to put his patience to the test. Not only were these moments, shaking hands with the guests, standing there as they left the church, annoying, but they were vital. The attention wouldn’t be on him, but it was enough of a moment he could charge with implications to change other’s opinions of him.

He tried to look empathetic when Archie Hopper walked by, shaking hands with the procession. Perhaps not empathetic enough to halt his therapy sessions, but it’d be a start.

He put on an innocent face as Granny hobbled by with all her spunk, lest she catch on that Peter had stolen a rather large tip from Ruby’s pocket the other day.

When Henry passed by, Peter was sure to give his nephew an affectionate ruffle to the hair, smiling at his mothers’ mutual pressure point. And then he did his best not to sneer at the awkward bumblings between Emma and Neal.

Mr. Tillman came down the aisle with his children, and Peter did his best not to smirk while wondering if the man had checked his security tapes at the auto shop lately. Particularly since the Thursday previous, when Peter had “sat in” while Felix was working. Considering Felix still had a job, Peter would have to guess that he probably hadn’t. He made a mental note to break in and get rid of the tape in question, before smiling back at the procession.

Mary Margaret Blanchard was all smiles as she shook hands with the entire bridal party, David Nolan off her shoulder. Peter typically wouldn’t bother with them, but somehow they held some sort of prestige in town. So, he figured it would be worth it to smile and shake hands.

There was no surprise that Felix had avoided the procession, but Peter hadn’t expected the boy to slink in behind him, whisper something in his ear about how tired Peter’s feet must be, and drop something into his pocket before disappearing. Peter did his best not to laugh at the attempt in theatrics while a shiver crept up his spine.

The rest of the procession exited and soon enough the church was empty.

Peter had every desire to walk away when the photographer came out. But, his hands were tied. If he was playing Good Son for the day, he had to play Good Son all day.

He never broke his promises, but with what felt like the eightieth flash of a camera, he wished he could.

But after an hour was spent, they were standing in the reception hall. A brightly lit hallway with ivory walls and a golden-edged rug surrounded them, as both Peter and Neal finally found solidarity in trying to block their father and stepmother’s saccharine dialogue from behind them.

From inside the hall, a booming voice sounded the introductions over synthesized music.

“Introducing bridesmaid Ariel Finn and groomsman Peter Gold.”

Muted applause sounded as he led the redhead to the long table up front, noticing the golden lacing on the tablecloth, before taking a seat, scanning the company at the tables for anyone of importance. After pinning down the consequential people, he found Felix seated at the table in the corner, looking ready to stab himself with a fork from his designated seat between John and Michael Darling. He made eye contact with the boy momentarily, laughing at his discomfort, to which Felix shot benign daggers back.

The hall was decorated expensively, obviously Daddy Dearest was throwing his money around. Chandeliers, candles, champagne. Everything seemed to glow as though it were enchanted. All the magic money could buy, apparently.

The voice sounded again.

“Maid of Honor, Ruby Lucas, and Best Man Neal Gold.”

The applause was a bit louder as Neal led Ruby in on his arm, twirling her under his arm once, before taking a seat on the opposite end of the table.

“And now, introducing the bride and groom!”

Peter almost laughed at the realization that the applause had been louder for Neal and Ruby. However, Gold and Belle came through the doors, all lit up and disgustingly happy.

Fortunately for the Gold boys, there had been an executive decision somewhere along the line for the speeches to be delivered by Maid of Honor

Ruby had stumbled over her words intermittently, but otherwise gave a fairly decent wedding speech. Riddled with cliches and girlish memories between her and Belle and sentiments that had been expressed at every wedding since St. Valentine.

That torture didn’t last too long though, soon the toasts were through, and the waiters placed overly fancy plates of chicken on the table, and classical strumming sounded from the dance floor.

  
  


After the guests finished their dinner, nearly everyone gathered around the dance floor to watch the obligatory first married dance that somehow Gold was planning to accomplish with his cane.

Peter honestly couldn’t have cared, crossing over the reception hall to occupy the empty chair to Felix’s left, noting the glare meeting him as he did so.

“What?”

“You had say in the seating chart, didn’t you?” Felix said, spinning the knife in his hand pensively.

Peter couldn’t help but grin. “Well, we couldn’t let you have too much fun.”

“Fun.” Felix mused dryly.

“At least not without me, that is.” Peter returned, reaching into his pocket, retrieving Felix’s gift from earlier.

 


End file.
